Remission
by applestoalways47
Summary: Post-ep for Redux II. Mulder decides to tell Scully how he feels when her cancer goes into remission. Loved this episode even though it made me sob. One-shot.


**Remission**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own any of these beautiful and amazing characters. Chris Carter and the Fox Network own all.

**A/N: **Redux and Redux II just made my heart sing and die at the same time, so I felt like a post-ep was in order. Hope you like it!

Remission.

A word he thought he would never hear coming from her doctor's lips. A word that had only been present in his hopes, the dreams he conjured in what little sleep he got where she was miraculously cured, the dark circles marring her perfectly blue eyes gone in a flasher, her pallid skin restored to its porcelain fairness, her fragile limbs returned to their former strength.

Those dreams were the only times he made his love for her known, something he both desired and feared. He desired and feared her as well. He desperately yearned to whisper sweet nothings in her ear while tenderly memorizing every inch of her body, assuring her that no one would ever get to her again, that we would take care of her. He desired her as a companion, much as she was now, but also someone who would soothe him after nightmares and clam his fears with a simple kiss; someone who would playfully wipe food from his mouth with her own; someone who would wrap him up in tangled sheets while tangling herself with him, making him forget his worries and his name as passion flowed between them.

Remission.

The word passed through his jumbled thoughts again as he sat in the standard plastic hospital chair outside her room, his head in his hands, palms moist with tears shed into them. He hadn't gone in to see her since he'd heard the news, not wanting to infringe on family time, especially with Bill in there. Mulder knew Bill resented, even hated him for putting his sister in harm's way. Mulder's guilt weighed heavily on his heart, but his love for Scully kept it high in his chest. She was the reason it beat.

He couldn't be with her now, but he couldn't leave her. He had to be near her, to hear her muffled voice alive and well on the other side of the harsh, white wall. Her voice, a combination of rationalism and compassion, was his solid ground when he didn't know what to believe anymore. The breath on which her words flowed was his oxygen, her fire-red hair was the blood that coursed through his veins, her crystal blue eyes were the waters that quenched his thirst for the truth, if only for a little while. Her cancer had been his, too, a gnawing in the pit of his stomach that had grown more difficult to bear each day.

She had pled with him to let his transgressions be placed on her so they could die with her, but if she had died, his whole self, trespasses included, would have died as well. He would have been an empty shell, his soul shriveled and useless.

But she hadn't died.

She had beaten unthinkable odds, never giving up, her faith ironclad in the face of death. That night he had come to her bedside and cried for all the time that they would lose, all the looks and smiles and kisses they would never share, all the children they would never have, he had prayed. He had prayed to her god, one he doubted the existence of but felt the urge to speak to that night. He had prayed to her god to spare her, to give her back her life so that she could start anew, even if that meant her new life didn't include him. Mulder wanted her god to save her for herself, for her family, but not for him. He couldn't presume to be her reason for living, despite the fact that she was his.

Mulder waved Skinner in when he came, sure that the family won't have as much of an aversion to the Assistant Director. It was one of the most difficult things he had experienced, seeing that open door, sensing her smile on the other side, and not being able to enter. Skinner exited later and gave Mulder a fatherly squeeze on the shoulder, one that said, "Give her time, she'll come to you."

Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, his emotions warring between utter euphoria, crippling anxiety, and unbearable anticipation.

About fifteen minutes later, he felt another hand on his shoulder, one more delicate and soothing. He opened his eyes to a relieved and smiling Maggie Scully, her moist eyes now glistening with tears of joy. Her baby would be all right.

"Hello, Fox," she said, genuinely happy to see him. She was glad that he had given Dana space, but he would still be there for her, as always—something her son Bill didn't understand.

As he stood and embraced her, Mulder saw Bill over her shoulder, his hands in his pockets as he paced slightly, his eyes looking everywhere but in the direction of him and Maggie.

Maggie pulled back, still smiling at him, her eyes as clear as his own mother's, yet softer, less haunted by the past, though Maggie Scully's life had not been without hardships. She had lost her husband and a daughter, but she relished in the family she had, a family that included Fox. Bill of course didn't consider Mulder to be family, but Maggie knew that Fox would go to hell and back to keep her daughter safe. Dana had been lost, a bright young woman in need of direction, and Fox Mulder had given him that.

"You can go in now," she said, giving his arm an encouraging tug toward the door. "She wants to see you, Fox."

Mulder's eyes lit up and his eyebrows raised slightly, his happiness and anxiety and anticipation reaching their pinnacle. He gave Maggie a smile, released the tension in his muscles, and walked through the door.

He was not prepared for what he saw. She still looked sickly, her skin pale and stretched thin from weariness, her back not quite so straight as in her usual alert posture. She had her face turned toward the window, her angelic profile, glowing in the half-light. She turned toward him, and their eyes me.

There was his Scully.

The blue flames of her eyes, once extinguished, were now blazing again, burning his own with a fire of gentle passion. A smile lit up her face.

"Hey, Mulder," she said, her voice trying to be nonchalant while her eyes conveyed her happy disbelief.

"Hey, Scully," he replied.

Then all of a sudden she was in his arms, his larger frame enveloping her smaller one, his face buried in her hair as her fingers gently carded through his. He felt his tears slide down his cheek and into the crook of her neck, relishing in the fact that she was warm and alive and holding him to her as tightly as she could. Mulder sniffled as he pulled her even closer, nuzzling her ear.

"I thought I was going to lose you this time," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

She gently wove her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck with one hand, making calming strokes up and down his back with the other.

"You'll never lose me, Mulder," she replied, nudging his ear with her nose.

He suddenly pulled back, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes boring into hers with months of stored fear and hopelessness.

"You can't know that, Scully," he said forcefully, his voice strained. "They gave you cancer, they abducted you. God knows what else they'll do. They know I'd be lost without you, that you're the most important thing in my life. That's why they want to take you from me, to destroy my resolve to find the truth. If I lost you, I…"

His voice faltered, sobs collecting in his throat and stealing his breath. Scully saw the pain in his eyes and pulled him to her again, resting his head against her breast like she would a child. She twirled strands of his hair between her fingers and continued to rub his back as he cried in earnest for the first time since he could remember. Silent tears ran down Scully's cheeks as she held him.

Scully pressed her lips to his temple, whispering sweet nothings into his ear to soothe him, her voice like a balm to the rawness of his soul. Her words calmed his sobs, and he pulled back to face her again.

Her hand made one last stroke through his hair, then moved down to cup his cheek. He turned to press a kiss to her palm as his eyes closed in the sweetness of the moment.

"Mulder, please look at me," Scully pled, her eyes moist but still starkly blue in her desperation.

Mulder complied, meeting her gaze with his own eyes. He saw memories there, memories of things lost in their quest, of times when things were left unsaid that very same gaze had said everything, of airplane flights when they feigned sleep and stayed awake just to hear each other breathe.

Their eyes had always said more than their mouths ever could, but some things had to be spoken, and they both knew it.

"I don't know what the future will bring for us," Scully began, "but know that I will never leave you. I told you, I'm in this as deep as you are. Your quest became my quest the minute I walked into your office four years ago. I know we still have to find the truth—"

"Dana," he interrupted her, "you are my truth."

Scully's breath caught at his words. His statement was shocking, but her first name dripped like honey off his tongue. She held his gaze for a moment, letting the gravity of his confession sink in before she rested her forehead against his.

"And you are mine."

Their lips met in an age-old dance, lovers sharing memories and secrets on shared breath. The kiss was not rushed or frenzied. They simply held each other, their bodies flush, her fingers in his hair. In that kiss was every unspoken word, every pained embrace that had followed a near-death experience. They knew that the next day was uncertain, but they also knew that Scully's cancer was gone. They had more time, how much they did not know, but they were going to hold each other until that time ran out.

Maggie Scully stood in the doorway and smiled at the pair. Those two kids had finally seen sense. She left the couple to enjoy their moment. Scully and Mulder did not notice her as she came and went, continuing to drink their lifeblood from each other's lips.

Eventually, the pair drifted off to sleep, the curl of their bodies like two perfect circles entwined, and Mulder gave a silent thanks skyward to whomever was up there for finally giving him the truth he had sought for so long.


End file.
